Holding
So I'm on the phone calling the internet airplane ticket facilitator with which I set up tickets for two. Turns out the first leg has us on two separate planes. How do you spell Pacobell? The telephone hold music is okay. It doesn't really decrease my patience too dramatically. This will all work out, right.....
Okay, I spoke briefly with a human but now I'm listening to the same Pacobell loop again.
What else?
I've been skiing, mostly downhill with a bit of Cross country thrown in. I did get pulled up and then lowered down along the trail to Mount Willard by my favorite snowshoer just this past Monday. And yes, the trails are much easier with a foot or two of snow smoothing things out over the rocks.
I broke a ski. Well, I broke a downhill ski and also a cross country ski. The latter happened slipping off a trail in Idaho a month ago. The former happened not quite a week ago overshooting and drastically underrotating in a terrain park at Attitash here in New Hampshire.
What else? I've seen snow melt. I've seen snow fall and I've seen snow pile up and I've seen snow go from being twenty inches deep to to twelve inches deep to six inches deep and back to eighteen inches deep.
It is kinda meaningless and inane sounding but snow sinking down is pretty neat. One really beautiful part is the snow falling off the trees the day after the snow fall. It was warm and so snow melted some and fell from the trees to the ground. By the second day after the snow fall, the once soft and mostly featureless whitenss was a bit like what we imagine the moon to be like- all full of craters and holes from stuff falling from the cosmos into the ancient dust. Then more days pass and the snow fall is older and older and then finally I go out onto the porch and look out at thye snow and there are very many white round objects sittin on the surface where recently there were holes. These are the blobs of snow that fell from the pine branches. The snow around the where they buried themselves has now melted or settled or sublimated or in whet ever way gone away and left these once cloud-bound and then tree-bound and finally below-the surface-of-the-snow-bound objects exposed.
Burt then they melted. And now there is another foot of snow above here thet had sat.
Pacobell????? I'm hanging up.
Okay, I spoke briefly with a human but now I'm listening to the same Pacobell loop again.
What else?
I've been skiing, mostly downhill with a bit of Cross country thrown in. I did get pulled up and then lowered down along the trail to Mount Willard by my favorite snowshoer just this past Monday. And yes, the trails are much easier with a foot or two of snow smoothing things out over the rocks.
I broke a ski. Well, I broke a downhill ski and also a cross country ski. The latter happened slipping off a trail in Idaho a month ago. The former happened not quite a week ago overshooting and drastically underrotating in a terrain park at Attitash here in New Hampshire.
What else? I've seen snow melt. I've seen snow fall and I've seen snow pile up and I've seen snow go from being twenty inches deep to to twelve inches deep to six inches deep and back to eighteen inches deep.
It is kinda meaningless and inane sounding but snow sinking down is pretty neat. One really beautiful part is the snow falling off the trees the day after the snow fall. It was warm and so snow melted some and fell from the trees to the ground. By the second day after the snow fall, the once soft and mostly featureless whitenss was a bit like what we imagine the moon to be like- all full of craters and holes from stuff falling from the cosmos into the ancient dust. Then more days pass and the snow fall is older and older and then finally I go out onto the porch and look out at thye snow and there are very many white round objects sittin on the surface where recently there were holes. These are the blobs of snow that fell from the pine branches. The snow around the where they buried themselves has now melted or settled or sublimated or in whet ever way gone away and left these once cloud-bound and then tree-bound and finally below-the surface-of-the-snow-bound objects exposed.
Burt then they melted. And now there is another foot of snow above here thet had sat.
Pacobell????? I'm hanging up.
posted by Sean at 10:54 PM
12 Comments:
The antFarm is bored by your absence.
Poor L-Freddy-K has tied himself to the whipping post and picked the finest willow besides; he handed it to his master with a clenched smile and waited for bile.
Art business is the bloodletting for the artist of our time.
Fuck the blog (with the exception of this one, of course).
But truly, we should - collectively - "Fuck the Blog."
Really, truly, what has it given us? Perhaps a lot. Perhaps a lot on the verge of little. Does history tell us that little typically wins? I mean meaninglessness, that's what I mean. I suppose it's not until you fuck something that you begin to see it for what it is, and love it accordingly.
At the end of the day we wish for ourselves to return.
The antFarm is bored with your absence.
xo
a (aka - "egurf")
Bless me father, for I have sinned; my last true confession was more than 25 years ago. Since then, I've sinned and sinned again (I think), perhaps committing the same sin one or more times. However, my recollection of these alleged sins isn't clear, as isn't the definition of sin is.
Being the anonymous 'blogger' that I am, I have no memory. In fact, no true-blue anonymous sort has a memory of which to speak; if we had, we'd have an identity - and under current order, that's what we lack and embody. Nevertheless, I'm sure I've sinned a time or two, or a time times two, in the last quarter-century. That's what brings me here today - easter sunday - to make good with those good-claimers who have sufficiently defined sin to cover my tracks.
So, father, here it is - what I can recall anyway: I cursed on Sane One Ill's blog. There you have it; I've sinned against you and man (not to suggest that you’re not also a man) and dog. I believe the specific curse word was "fuck." I am truly sorry for typing "fuck" on this blog, really I am. Any good person would certainly be offended by reading "fuck", for fuck's sake. Oh - sorry, father, I've sinned again. Does this confession cover sins committed whilst confessing, or do I need to exit and re-enter to be absolved for sins in the box? In any case, I'll cut down on the fuck-speak in the future, I promise. However, I must further confess that I've probably said fuck, on average, once (maybe twice) a day for the last 25 years; coincidently, it's been a fairly regular verbal since I've last confessed. Doing the simple math I calculate that’s well over 9,000 fucks, and probably more like 12-15,000, taking drinking into the equation.
So, what’s my sentence? Would one good rosary do it – I mean if I really say it like I mean it? (with pursed lips and a crackly voice) I’d hate to have to repeat anything as much as I’ve said fuck just to erase its ills. However, one must consider the endearing qualities of fuck before laying the judgment on me, please father. Fuck is – or at least can be – a noun, a verb, an adjective and an adverb; considerably more versatile than most word we overuse. All things considered, father, don’t you think the folks who witnessed Jesus Christ’s rising from the dead may have exclaimed something like – “FUCK!” (putting myself in the situation the phrase that comes to mind is “. . . for Christ’s sake!” – however, I don’t know that such an expression would have been contemporaneous for the time; probably made popular by Constantine or the Richard I.)?
Okay, now – what’s the verdict?
Regardless, bless me father, for I’ve sinned.
Evidently the proprietor of this blog really meant it when he said "holding" on March (30 days ago) 17th.
Hear ye, here ye . . . I say, as a confirmed anonymity, that we join together and take over this blog. It's been 31 days now without a post. An abandoned post is a post to which any anonymous sort is free to hitch.
Hear ye, here ye - we found our anonymous blog!
a
Declaration of Independence from Hidden Somewhere
In the course of blog-o-sphere events it becomes necessary for an anonymous people to advance from that subordination in which they have hitherto remained, and to assume among the powers of the earth the equal and independent station to which the laws of nature and of nature's god (that'd be "mother nature" to voyeurs like y'all) entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to change.
We hold these truths to be sacred and undeniable; that all anonymous dudes (gender neutral) are created equal and independent; that from that equal creation they derive in rights inherent and inalienable among which are the preservation of life and liberty, and the pursuit of happy anonymity.
Hence forth, this blog belongs to anonymity.
I think it's high time we thank TJ for our declaration of independence, albeit a rough draft, from Hidden Somewhere.
c
Hey, does anybody know what day it is?
d
If you ask the former proprietor of this lost blog, he'll try to tell you it's "March 17, 2007" and "holding."
e
It dawned on me this evening that we will all be dead before we know it. It's just the way it (death) works, I guess. Dead - then who knows? - not the dead one, at least not as he or she knew it previously (prior to dying).
Brightness falls on existing light, only to make it brighter; that's it job, I presume.
And what of a trend of one? Perhaps more could be made of it with some fancy math.
Love may see death, but I doubt ever on its own accord.
f
Cheers! (implicitly plural to the number three)
g
Hey, whose the lame proprietor of this blog (careful with your words, sonny)? We (anonymity) want the password to this joint.
We want the password!
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A hundred times, dude - now give us the damn password!
h
Evidently this blog dude misspoke when he said he wanted to "live large"; he really meant to say "live at large."
Where's the dude?
I
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